


Wires and Circuts

by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sentience, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER/pseuds/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: A series of oneshots and scenarios dedicated to Raiden from the Metal Gear series!





	1. Machine

[Raiden x Cyborg!Reader]

 

_Clack...clack...clack..._

The ticking of your heels resounded within the heavy atmosphere as you strolled away from your kill. Sparks sizzled and danced from the tips of frayed wires as the remains of your foe scattered across the cracked concrete. Fire crackled along the rims of debris scattered across the battlefield. The thick, strong scent of smoke settled into your lungs as you breathed. Your head spun. Your limbs fell heavy at your side.

But, you won. 

The further you departed, the more you noted a stinging in your exposed skin, an aching within the living tissues delving deep beyond visual perception. When you glanced at your forearms to examine, superficial scrapes and deep gashes adorned your limbs, crimson fluids fanning and trailing down to your gloved fingers. So fueled were you by the adrenaline in the heat of the fight, you never noticed even a prick. It now hit you harder than a ton of bricks. 

“F-Fuck...,” you hissed, knees buckling. 

Your ears seemed to clog, and every sound became distinct and fuzzy, as if cotton had been rammed into them. Your head seemed to rock, back and forth, back and forth, until the world around you began to spin...round...round...and round. The beating of your heart escalated into a throb, pulsating throughout the organic parts of your body.

_Pain._

This was pain.

Because of your cybernetic attachments, you were injected with a sedative and embedded with pain inhibitors that reduced, even numbed, physical awareness you normally experienced. You recalled feeling so... _wrong._ So out of place. Those sensations, even ones of discomfort, reminded you that despite the prosthetics melded into your form, you were human. 

But, as time progressed, you grew accustomed to the loss. You ran faster than you ever knew possible. Your strength passed all human limitations, and it _intoxicated_ you. You were unstoppable. You were invincible.

You were a machine bred for war.

But, what was this? 

The rose colored glasses through which you saw yourself completely shattered, and here you were, a bloodied, broken mess, writhing under the blazing heat of the noon sun. 

And it _hurt._

Damn, did it ever hurt. 

But, you couldn’t tell if it was your body or pride that took the most damage.

The wiring in your knees finally snapped from the wear and tear you put it through. Even your arms trembled as they struggled to hold you. You resembled a dog, starving, homeless, crawling for sanctuary. Each second that ticked by, the pain worsened and worsened, engulfing you, swallowing you whole. Specks of black formed before your eyes, and everything around you melded into a colored blur. Your tear ducts stung as something hot and moist trailed down your cheeks. 

You raised quivering fingers to the filthy mess.

_Tears...?_

Were you crying?

Had you sunk so low, had you fallen so hard that crying was all you could do?

But, as soon as that door was unlocked, everything inside came spilling out. Despite the blazing heat of the streets, you curled up, right there, hiding your face. Whether it be from shame, sadness, fear, you couldn’t even recognize it. It was all a knot throbbing inside you. Where it came from was even a greater mystery. Perhaps it was everything you had been through, the stress, the agony, the death and horror you had witnessed, stacking and piling higher, and higher.

Whatever it was, you didn’t give a damn.

All you knew to do was cry.

Time, responsibilities and obligations, your mission, it all seemed to fade away in the midst of the emotion. For once, for once in your pathetic and pitiable existence, you could think about yourself, what you needed, what you wanted.

_Rest._

_Peace._

No, you couldn’t. That would be succumbing to that weak side of you.

Or was it weak? Was this just the human half of you you tried so hard to suppress? 

Was it even possible to attain such things with the live you had been living? With what you had become?

Could a machine find peace?

At last, you exhaled sharply, and a burden seemed to lift from your shoulders. You face stung as salted tears met with scrapes and cuts along your face. The aching of your wounds still lingered through tired appendages. But, you payed it no mind. 

You could breathe again.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke you from your trance.

“Hey, last time I checked, we weren’t scheduled a nap time, soldier.”

Your heart did a 360 degree turn and leap in your chest as you scrambled to at least sit up again. You were still too weak to stand, and you would rather die than Raiden witness you fall flat on your face.

“R-Raiden,” you choked out, brushing whatever rubble and dust clung to your body.

Arching an eyebrow and crossing his arm, a low chuckle vibrated in his throat after approaching and kneeling to your current level.

“Looks like you got chewed up and spit back out again,” he said, placing a hot, metallic hand on the damaged skin of your shoulder.

You simply scoffed in reply.

“Yeah, but the stupid UGs are down, right?” you mumbled, sliding your fingers through your tangled mess of hair. 

Your head may have been lowered, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze from the one eye he retained. 

“But your body’s sustained significant damage,” the humor in voice diminished, allowing guilt to sink into your chest. “That’s why you...oh, you know, _call_ before you get yourself possibly killed.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. Boy, did you fuck up.

“I did my part, and you did yours,” you replied, the tip of your finger tentatively following the patterns fanning within the pavement. “It’s over and done with, okay?”

“You’re too damn stubborn,” he said with a sharp exhale. “That’s not the best quality for our job.”

“Coming from the most reliable source ever,” and a smirk teased the corners of your mouth.

A quiet but still genuine laugh rolled from his lips. 

“Alright, you got me.”

Triggering your breath to hitch, his fingers encircled your chin as he lifted your face to meet his. Your eyes locked with the steely, blue orb gazing back. During silent moments like this, your heart pained for the cybernetic soldier before you. So covered was he with armor, so filled was he with wires, screws, and metals of all durability, shapes and colors, you wondered what of his original body remained, if any at all. Every scratch and indentation within the armor, reflecting the blinding light of the sun, told bits and pieces of the puzzle that was his life. 

You knew what he was, what he called himself, what others called him, and the rivers of blood staining his hands.

Yet, watching him now, the soft curve of his pale face, the warmth in his eye, his light hair feathering over his cheeks and the plates covering his lost eye and mandible, you sensed a gentler soul, hiding behind the shield.

He saw himself as nothing more as a machine built for war, a killer, a fighter, a monstrous being with the spine tingling title of Jack the Ripper.

But, that devil he described was not what you perceived in the slightest. No, despite his intimidating demeanor, you saw _Raiden,_ your comrade, your friend and partner in crime. You saw a man, a man who wandered through hell and back again numerous times only to come back each time stronger, a man you loved in the small and quiet, secret places of your heart all these long years.

No matter what materials composed his skeleton or what superhuman abilities he may have possessed, you saw no machine, but a human being.

And to you, he would remain nothing else. 

The hard curve of Raiden’s thumb dragged over the wet streaks left behind. Once more, your heart raced, its pulse pounding your eardrums. 

“You weren’t crying, were you?” he inquired in almost a whisper.

Despite the loss of blood, your cheeks still managed to produce a hint of pink as your red and swollen eyes shifted away. 

“Tch, no,” you grunted. “I don’t cry.”

Surprising you with another chuckle, he rose to his feet and replied,

“You’re a moron.”

Before you could retort, you found yourself being lifted from the radiating hotness of the streets. You yelped both from surprise and the sudden wave of pain washing over you for a moment as Raiden cradled you in his arms. 

“Raiden-! Wha-?!”

“I don’t need you falling all over the place and hurting yourself even more,” he told you as he strutted his way back. “You know, you’re a lot more valuable dead than alive.”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” you spat, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. 

As he released another hum of a laugh, you turned your face away still too ashamed to even look his away. Raiden, one of the strongest fighters you were aware of, and the most powerful in your company every day, had seen you lower and weaker than you ever knew was possible. All hopes after restoring your dignity were obliterated and thrown out the window. 

Unbeknownst to you, he noticed. How could he not? Unlike himself, you still possessed remains of your human limbs, so you were still far more susceptible to these overwhelming sensations. 

In a way, he was a bit envious.

“You don’t have to feel bad for crying,” he finally said. 

Your eyes widened at the comment. 

“Wh...”

A faint smile touched his upper lip. 

“You’re pretty tough going all this while without shedding a tear,” he continued. “There’s no reason to be ashamed for doing it just once. It’s normal. You’re still human after all.”

All you knew to do was blink, listening to the flutter of your heart. Head growing weak and heavy, you finally rest your head against his chest. As hard as the surface was, you couldn’t possible think of a place more comfortable, more secure, more... _safe._

And you couldn’t think of a place happier than at his side, two humans under the guise of machines, tools of war.

“Breathe a word of this to anyone,” you grumbled. “And I’ll ram that sword of yours up your cybernetic asshole.”

After raising a finger to his mouth, Raiden replied,

“You’re secret’s safe with me.”

“Raiden-!! Both hands! You’ll drop me!”

“Tch, you kidding? I could carry you with one hand.”

“Well, _don’t._ ”

“Hey, this is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Damn it, Raiden, _stop._ ”


	2. Dark Skies

[Raiden x Cyborg!Reader]

 

Death.

The stench of death violates your senses, the smoke particles stinging your eyes, the musty, pungent, metallic reek of corpses, human and cyborg, filling, even dominating your nostrils.

And the _blood..._

So much blood...

You dare not even glance at your hands, for fear of your stomach twisting and churning...or what remains of it. 

_Click. Click. Click._ The heels of Raiden, your partner, echo across the battlefield as he approaches your side. Scratches and indentions adorn every part of his body, yet he retains no injuries. A disgusting mixture of crimson and white splatters across his armor; the blood of his foes.

You cannot help but look away.

“So, that’s it then,” he mutters in almost monotonously. “Time to move on then...”

“Guess so...Heard what we’re doing next?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well,” you stand and brush away the rubble clinging to your joints. “Let’s get a move on then.”

With no more than a nod, he pivots and makes his way with the demolition, destruction you played a role in.

 

You never once thought it would ever come to this. you never thought you would be responsible for so much ruin, so much bloodshed. You thought of yourself as nothing more than a soldier, a tool, another means to an end. 

Nothing at all like Raiden.

Raiden. God of Lightning. White Devil. Jack the Ripper.

He is known. He is revered.

Most importantly, he is _feared._

Enemies tremble at the mention of his name. Skilled opponents lust for a fight with him, just to receive a taste of his power.

All fall by his hands.

Despite working at his side, you could not ignore the flickering terror inside you upon witnessing his skill in combat. But, even so, that fear grew into respect.

The more you worked with him, the more you grew to esteem him, even like him. Behind that thick armor resided a man, a human just like you, with insecurities, worries, desires, dreams, hopes. Those qualities just took greater damage due to the past that haunted him so. All the same, you would be lying to yourself if you denied some of the tender feelings you fastened away in your tired, broken heart. 

Never did the same come for you to speak of such things. How could you in the heat of battle, hands hardened from your blade, from clutching the tools of war in hand. No, they became more than just your tools. They were a part of who you were now.

 _You_ were a pawn of war now, just like Raiden.

 

Slowly, little by little, memories of your life as an ordinary human dwindle, little by little, only to  be replaced with thoughts of violence. 

_Kill...or be killed..._

The face contorting to fear as you tore them down...the limbs...the oceans of blood...

A part of you finds a strange sense of satisfaction in your handiwork when the deed is done.

You lick dry cracked lips as these thoughts persist, and your eyes shift over to Raiden. His shadowed eyes stay clouded in thought, lowered, as if to hold sorrow, maybe even shame. 

Your heart sinks, and guilt riddles your conscience.

Just when you believe to be taking pleasure in your work, you remember everything he endured, everything he’d seen, everything he’d done. These are forced upon him, against his will. This consumes a majority of his life with little light to cling to. 

And you are making the choice to wander into this darkness...

 _What the hell am I even thinking...?_ you wonder, pressing your thumbs into your temples.   
“You okay?” his voice suddenly breaks the silence, breaks you from your train of thought.

“Hn?” you raise your head to meet pale eyes, full of concern. “Oh...yeah, I’m fine. Just worn out I guess...”

He simply hums in reply. The tightening of his mouth and furrowing of his brow indicates he does not exactly believe you, but you are obviously not willing to continue. 

How could possibly share these thoughts?

It hurt, especially when thinking of him.

It is time to put them away...

Closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, you sense the clearing of the smoke, dense heavy smell finally lifting. Moisture fills your nasal cavity, a cool breeze, clean air. 

You gaze upon the horizons. Blackened clouds gather before the sun, allowing only a few strands of light to break away the darkness.

“Looks like rain,” you whisper with a bit of a sad smile.

“Hm.”

“We should probably hurry up,” you turn to him for a moment.

He too closes his eyes, inhaling the clean, serene scene of the rain. Despite his cybernetic appearance, you can see his limbs completely relax. His lungs expand to their limit before a long strand of air releases between his lips. 

You can’t help but smile just a little. For once in his life, he finds pleasure, even if it’s just in the weather.

“I guess,” you say, proceeding forward just a little at a time. “we can take it a little slow.”

“Wha-?” Raiden suddenly snaps from his trance. “Oh, I’m sorry...I was just-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say. “Come. We’ve got a ways to go.”

Again, with nothing more than a nod, he stands at your side, and you make your way forward, forward into the dark skies.


	3. Hello

[Raiden x Cyborg!Reader]

 

_”No...Raiden, wait-!”_

_”Wake up!”_

_”Come back...I can’t do this-”_

_”God, help me. It hurts...”_

_Wake up!!”_

_”Raiden! Wait, please-!”_

_”Come on, wake up!”_

_”Don’t leave me-!”_

_”I said, wake up!!”_

Immediately, your eyes snap open. Sweat glistens your neck and forehead. Your ears clog, and your heart pounds violently in your ears.

Ah, how strange it is, experiencing these sensations of fear once again.. How odd it felt to feel the chilly air against new skin once more, the little artificial pili within these new tissues working to form those goosebumps along your arm. Every once of these sensations feel foreign, almost overstimulating to you.

Swallowing hard, you pull yourself up from the sheets entangling you, rubbing your face.

“You were having a nightmare,” comes a sweet, delicate voice. 

Once the excess fluid in your eyes clears away, allowing them to adjust, you turn to find a soft, warm pair of brown eyes gazing into your own and fair hair resonating in the sun. Silky hands clasp your own, the sudden warmth causing you to jolt.

“Are you okay?”

You swallow. You lick stinging, chapped lips. The, you turn and smile.

“I’ll be alright, Sunny,” you assure the eleven year old. 

She purses her lips and crosses her arm.

“I hear that all the time,” she pouts. “And it always turns out to be just the opposite!”

You bite your lip and lower your head. How could you argue with her? Triggering a yelp from you, she flicks your forehead.

“If something’s really wrong with you, you better tell me, okay?!”

“Okay, okay, you got me, Sunny!”

She grunts, while placing her hands on her hips. 

“Now, about breakfast,” she says. “How about some eggs? I make the best sunny side up!”

Pressing your lips together, your hand drags over your abdomen. In response, your stomach grumbles. Damn, how long has it been since you heard that noise, sensed the emptiness that is hunger?

You manage to force out a laugh.

“I guess I am pretty hungry. I forgot what that felt like,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck.

Sunny returns the favorite with a smile worthy of her name. 

“Don’t worry,” she cheers. “I’ll get you fixed up ASAP!”

Finally, you pull yourself from the comfort of your bed, rumpling your matted hair. 

“Thanks a lot, Sunny,” you call, just before she skips from the room. “Man, she really lives up to her name.” 

Wrapping the fleece blanket about your shoulders, you saunter into the kitchen, the aroma of eggs wafting into your nose. Warmth surrounds you. You cannot recall the last time you felt so normal, so _human._ You press yourself up to the window pane. Cars below you speed by. Men and women alike calmly attend to their daily activities, no care in the world other than the daily obligations and delights.

If only they knew...

_”I’ve got my own war to fight...”_

Your heart twists and turns, a strange tight sensation stretching across your chest. 

“Shit...,” you whisper as you clutch your chest. “That hurts...”

“Something wrong?” 

“Huh?”

Almost panicking, you cleared your throat and looked up with a very awkward, half smile.

“Nah, I’m fine!” you forced a most strange laugh as you stuffed some egg into your mouth. “This is delicious!”

She narrows her eyes. Much to your surprise, she firmly grips your shoulder. You freeze. 

You have nowhere to hide now.

She knows.

“Again,” she states. “You were screaming in your sleep again.”

Your mouth runs dry. 

“I...,” you manage to swallow. “What was...,” but your voice trails into silence. 

She sighs.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

With that, she places herself across from you, nibbling away at her own breakfast. Your heart sinks, and suddenly, the yellow excretion from the egg spreading across your plate grows less and less appetizing. You twirl around the remains with the prongs of your fork. 

“It just...,” you begin. “It just hasn’t been the same without him...”

Because of her lowered head, you fail to see the gentle smile she grants you.

“I can only imagine,” she replies. “Especially for you.”

Your throat tightens just a bit. 

“I guess it’s the age old question of what do you do with a washed up old soldier,” you elicit a weak laugh.

“What do you mean?”

It takes a moment for you to compose your self. Eyes burning and stomach churning, you are too close for comfort to crying. 

“Look at me, Sunny,” you say, covering your face. “I’m no longer fit for a normal life. I can’t just walk off the battlefield and live a normal life.”

She rises from her seat, swerving about the table, and takes a place at your side. 

“I am full of wires,” your gaze into your trembling palms, scanning the grooves and lines embedded into synthetic skin. “My bones are prosthetic. I can’t reproduce. People won’t hire me because of what I am. My family is scared of me now.” 

Your breath catches as cold tears fall into your hand. You never notice the tingling in your sinuses, the burning in your eyes. 

How? How would one not see how human you once were, how human you are now? Could they not look past the screws and bolts? Could they not ignore what composed you and instead note how you behaved, how you treated others?

Is it truly that difficult?

You feel the intensity of Sunny’s stare as she watches you. You dare not look up, the same being far to great. Instead, you wipe the fluid away with the back of your hand.

“I don’t know what to do, Sunny,” you half murmur. “Of course, I miss Raiden. He...,” your heart twisted and throb each time your words ceased. “He was....my home, so to speak. You know, the only place I felt at home But, I...he...,” you could bare it no more. You are sick of holding everything inside. 

Pain is pain, physical or not.

You bury your face in your hands, sobbing. You cannot bare it. You miss him. What reason did you need? You miss your fights together. You miss your banters in between missions. You miss the late night conversations during lulls. You miss his smile, his stupid jokes, his bad taste in disguises, the heartfelt look in his eyes when he spoke of his past or the children he longed to save from fates worse than death.

And he leaves without saying goodbye? 

Would it have killed him to at least mention his departure?  
In the midst of your grieving, her soft and warm hand encircles your shoulder. The tension bundled in your chest releases just a bit, which allows you to breathe. At last, you raise your head. Her smile shines brighter than the sun, and her eyes glint with delight: true to her name. 

“Hey,” she says almost with a hint of amusement. “I think I can help you there.”

You blink at her for a moment.

“What...do you mean?”

 

_”And how’s business?”_

_”Oh, good...good. Herr Doktor’s research and staffing service certainly help.”_

_”I hear World Marshall’s looking for a buyer.”_

_”Well, you cost them a lot of money, da? Not to mention their funding - literally! The brain-taking program is finished, but the larger company is not, I’m afraid. Someone will buy them. PMCs are in demand once again.”_

_”Yeah...Fighting for reasons they don’t understand, causes they don’t believe in...”_

_”Beg pardon?”_

_”No...nothing...”_

_”So...your mind is made? You will not come back?”_

_”Sorry, Boris...”_

_”I understand. But...then...what will you do?”_

 

Raiden’s heels click as he enters the dark hall. The enemy cyborgs whir as they stir from their slumber. Lights flare red. Swords are drawn. He scans the area, unmoved, undaunted. Clutching the black suitcase in his hand, he raises it, slowly, for his foes to see. Only he knows the secret weapon it holds. 

Suddenly, a voice echoes behind him, causing his heart to nearly stop.

“You know, it’s customary to say goodbye to someone when they leave. It’s, you know, polite.”

A smile plays across his lips. 

“There again, your manners were never spot on, huh?”

His foes remain unmoved, focussed primarily on him. 

They refuse to acknowledge your presence.

Releasing his blade, he pivots his stance, and in a blink of an eye, they are severed in two. As their heavy body collapse with a heavy clang. After scanning his work, he turns to face you. 

You slowly clap.

“Well done, Raiden,” you say. “You haven’t lost your touch.” 

With a nod, he approaches your familiar form, clad in your armor once again.

“Doktor fixed you up good,” you cross your arms. 

“Yeah, well,” he chuckles a bit. “It’s nice to have two eyes again.”

You return the laugh, but a strange silence settles. Eyes lock. A thousand unsaid words long to be spoken, words so desperately needing to be shared. 

Instead, he simply places his hands upon your shoulder, uttering only one, one that hides so much more value than meets the eye. 

 

_”I’ve got my own war to fight...”_

 

“Hello.”


	4. Kiss

[Raiden x Android!Reader]

 

You wished you understood...

You sit around these soldiers, these men of war, speaking of a cause outside the battlefield. You heard so much of living life by one’s own will, for the freedom needed to live such a life, to no longer be pawns in these pointless fights. 

You were born in a laboratory. Your will belonged to someone else, you lived and breathed by someone else’s orders, someone else’s commands. No matter the abuse that came your way, no matter the neglect, the depraved actions forced upon you, you complied as a trained dog to his master, no questions asked, no other options.

Until, he came...

He was the lightning in the storm, a brilliant beam crashing through the darkness, your hope of waking to the glow of morning.

You never encountered anyone like him. So long were you surrounded by mindless, humanoid pawns with no desires, no dreams, no thoughts of their own. 

But, he was composed of machine, wires, screws, nuts, bolts - _blood of purest white._ Once, he was human, flesh and blood, until this conversion, but his mind and heart remained, retaining the precious memories and emotions that created his identity, that formulated who he was; _Raiden,_ the White Devil, Jack the Ripper. 

You were told little of his history, a child in Liberia, born and bred to become nothing more than a mindless killer. Yet, somehow, he broke free from those chains, rising far and beyond those lowly origins, becoming one of the most feared soldiers.

You wished you understood...

Those quiet moments alone, as he spoke of memories still replaying at the surface of his mind, those tears shed as he shared experience of a lost childhood and the strain it caused his once fiance, those nights he awoke you screaming, thrashing, turning; you discovered your own free will, your own thoughts, your own feelings so recently. This level of human complexity delved far beyond your comprehension. 

Still, as if by instinct, you found yourself at his side, listening, stroking the silky strands of light hair. 

Very rarely did he vocalize his gratitude. Instead, he conveyed it through a grasp of your hand, his armored palm tightening around your own.

You loved it when he did that.

You would give up everything just to feel the touch of his hand against your own.

But, why this was you never figured out.

You wished you did.

You wished you understood...

Why your mouth seemed to dry in his presence, why your heart wrestled between racing and stopping each time those crystalline eyes of blue locked with your own, eyes full of so many stories, so many emotions having yet to be spoken, the tingling warmth coursing through your body each time he drew near; such sensations were unfamiliar to you after living in a world of numbness. What were these muddled impressions? And why did they only initiate around him?

They delivered such an odd pleasure, one that robbed you of your sleep, your appetite, your sense of reason, one that filled your mind only of him. Yet, such pain mixed with the delight: you ached each time he suffered, as if you carried some of that with him. You longed so much to grasp him to your chest and hide him away from the evil in this world, a world that hurt him so much.

But, you failed to fully make sense of this strange illness you contracted. 

Or was it an illness to begin with?

How would you know when you could barely articulate it?

You wished you understood,

so instead, you simply decided to accept it, nothing more.

 

The humming and beeping of the machines filled your ears within the small facility. The oxygen pump hissed as the gas was pushed through the tubes. Raiden laid across the table, masking cover his face, body weakened from loss of blood. Solid Snake and Dr. Emmerich departed from the room, leaving it devoid it of all conversation. Young, fragile Sunny studiously monitored his condition, face full of worry. 

And once again, you sat at the edge of his bedside. He lost himself in a trance, eyes glazes, body perfectly motionless. So drowned was he in his thoughts, it seemed as if nothing else you hoped your being there would still offer a little comfort. You scanned his features, the wires attached to his spine, the mask feeding him required air. His form still was so tense, his expression pained. You wondered how much of his senses still functioned despite all the cybernetic enhancements, how much would he feel of you brushed your fingers over the silky skin of his cheeks. 

Only recently had you become acquainted with the idea of physical sensations. How did it feel to once dwell in a world of somatic awareness, and then suddenly be removed by the simple pull of a switch, to take away something so vital to the human experience. 

You wished...oh, how you wished more than ever to understand him...

With a tremble hand, you mustered up enough courage to place your palm against the open face of his helmet, where you could encircle his cheek with your hand. His lashes fluttered, and he turned towards you, dilated eyes readjusted. You lightly bit your lower lip, furrowed your brows, as you observed his reaction. 

So much sorrow hid behind those beautiful eyes, pale as a morning storm...

Inhaling deeply, you leaned in closer to his face. He neither flinched nor pulled away. As the proximity closed, the more your heart pulsed; excitement? Fear? What was this reaction? Was it normal to respond this way to so small a gesture?

You decided to ignore it all. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to his smooth forehead. You took note of the myriad of sensations: his soft hair tickling your face, his slow, warm breath against your neck, the thin muscles relaxing at the delicate touch, the warmth of his satiny skin, contrasting the hardness of his body, against your lips. The strange jolts of electricity within you faded away, and only tenderness remained. You wished so much to remain at his side, to take away all of the agony he kept locked away. 

But, how could you heal something, someone that you could not understand? 

How could you connect with a being so far above you?

What would you give to understand him...

How much of you would you sell away just to comprehend even just a little of these complex emotions...

But, all you had were the basics, the simplest impressions by which humans of the youngest ages could connect with. 

You pulled away, still keeping close, fingers pressed gently into his scalp. He spoke nothing. His eyes closed, but his breathing had slowed. Slowly, his hand, weak and quivering, rose to rest on your shoulder, as if to silently thank you. 

A sense of satisfaction swelled within you. It was small. It was quiet, but that gesture held more meaning than you could ever truly ask for. You remained at his side, gently caressing the fair locks between your fingers.

You wish you understood him, and you came with little to nothing, save for a chaste kiss.

But, even you failed to see the gratitude he felt for such a plain yet perfect gift...


	5. Bad Dream

[Raiden x Android!Reader]

 

_It's okay to be scared once in a while._

 

_Every child gets scared sometimes, don't they? They're learning. They're growing._

 

_It's normal. It's natural._

 

_It's all part of being human._

 

_Is it okay for adults to get scared too?_

 

_Is it okay...for me to get scared..._

_when everyone expects me not to..?_

 

Soft fingers sliding through silvery locks, the hum and whisper of the oxygen machine, the hiss of the monitor, keeping in time with Raiden's pulse; Otacon rushes for tools and aid to keep the cyborg alive until they arrive to his primary doctor, the expert in such artificial bodies.

 _Europe...,_ you wonder. _How long could that be...?_

Suddenly, Raiden flinches, as if pain strikes. His brows wrinkle. You note the glimmer of his teeth as he grinds them together. His filthy, torn body constricts and tenses. You tilt your head, observing this phenomena. 

Perhaps the sedative is wearing off...but surely not so quickly. He should feel no pain.

What could be this strange occurrence...?

Suddenly, causing you to jump, he shrieks. A hand flies aimlessly and lands against your leg. Fingers tightening around whatever flesh he finds. The stinging and burning is unbearable, yet you bite your tongue. You sit through it.

But, why...?

When injured, you should push away the initial threat to defend yourself.

Why can you not with him?

What is stopping you...?

Raiden's voice quiets down. Slowly, trembling, he releases a long, drawn out exhale. He releases your skin, now bruised and red, and his arm falls off the edge. Glazes, water eyes flutter open. Blinking, two tears escape either corner of his eyes. 

A silence....

Until he speaks.

"What...just happened?"

You stop a moment. What should you say? Would it embarrass him if you told the truth? That he screamed and shouted for someone? 

But, the grave look in his eyes, the sunken eyes, full of sorrow and fatigue, gazing up at you, somehow alerts you to his: he knows...

He always knows.

It is quite easy to tell, especially with someone of his background, this is not new. In fact, such instances take hold more often than you would ever be aware of. 

Why bother now?

Forcing a weak smile, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, another. Then, another. How pleasant it feels just to feel his skin against yours, no matter how small. With each touch, the more the clenching within his body dissipated within him, until once more, he falls limp.

"It's okay," you whisper, dragging your thumb over his brow. "It's all over now."

Sighing simply, he rolls on his side, pressing his cheek into your lap and edging closer to your form. Your breath catches. Your heart races with excitement, and your body warms. 

No, you may not ever understand the man you love, but at least, he could hide away from his fears in the comfort of your embrace.

Once again, you slide your fingers through his light hair over and over again.  Finally, you smile.

And nothing else seems to matter anymore.

 

_It's okay to get scared..._

 

_It's normal to be scared..._

 

_You can be scared too._

 

_But, I'll be here with you._


	6. Beg

[Jack the Ripper!Raiden x Android!Reader]

 

_”Pain...”_

_”This is why I fight...”_

 

Blood oozes through the veins of the street as the final breaths of his foes release into the deadening silence. Their bodies crumble to the ground, sparking, limbs severed, their identities fading into nonexistence. 

Darkness covers the light of the sun. The thickening clouds bathe the city in their heavenly water in attempt to wash away these ghastly deeds, the bloodshed contaminating the earth below. 

And all you know to do is stand, eyes widened, mouth dropped, feet weighted into the ground, as if all movement or hopes of moving drained from your body, little by little. 

Palms, cold, still sweat. Your heart beats faster than the wings of a frightened hummingbird. Your canals seem to constrict, clouding the sounds about you. You muscles tense, ready to fight, flee, anything at all.

But, all you can do is stand...stand and watch...

You gaze into the face of fear itself; not a monster, not a demon, but a comrade.

His remaining eye glimmers a deepening crimson. Red fluid trickles down his fingers and seeps into the grooves of his armor. Holding the stained blade before his lips, he inhales deeply as if taking in the scent of a heavenly aroma. His tongue pushes between his mouth. The tip flicks a speck of soiled weapon, allowing the taste of salt and iron to dominate his senses. 

His breath hitches.

Then, a dark guttural laugh bellows within the depths of his chest.

“You know,” he says, approaching you. “I learned young that killing your enemies feels good... _really_ good.”

A trembling hand reaches for your weapon, but what good does it do? His power trumps yours by a hundred fold. Before your mind decides on an action, his chest presses into your own, pinning you to the wall behind you. You glance away, too afraid to make eye contact with him. You even lose the strength to breathe. Two hands rest on either side of you, as a predator looms over his prey. Slowly, heated breath feathers over your mouth. 

“I learned,” the _shing_ from the metal dragging from its sheath sends shivers down your spine as it pierces your ears. “how good pain could feel in the midst of battle.”

Before you are permitted to answer, his blade delves into your side. You cry out. Instinctively, your hands rest on his shoulders. Your body goes rigid, sensing nothing of the metallic intruder at first, save for the pressure of his hand. Then, releasing a thin whimper, you glance down at the wound site. 

Then, the sharp throb beats through your entire body.

 _Cold._ As the blood pours onto the concrete, pooling beneath you, your form grows cold. Your lungs constrict. Every bit of you trembles, and a lump forms in your throat. 

“It always hurts at first,” his words brush against the shell of your ear. “But, after it settles, you’ll  notice the strange pleasure that follows.” 

Tears collect at the rims of your ears, ready to streak the filth from your face. Suddenly, a hand rests on the back of your neck.

“You trust me, don’t you? I am your friend after all.”

_Friend...?_

How true it is.

 

Working in an environment entirely run by humans, you lived so long as an abandoned, black sheep, fighting for survival, doing what you saw fit to find a place in this sick world.

But, he was always there.

He always remained at your side with open arms. 

After all, he understood. He understood how it felt to be rejected from society, to be shunned, tortured, neglected, all the minimal reasons. 

An android and a cyborg; a pair could not be more mismatched yet to perfect.

You loved how protective he became of you. From a  quick glare to a wringing of the neck, he never allowed those who spoke poorly of you to leave without some form of punishment. The flame in his eyes, his wicked sneer, while striking fear into your heart, you could not deny the swell of pride in your chest.

After all, he did it for you.

Missions proved no different. Remaining at your side at all times, he always stayed within your view, in case you fell into any danger. If he detected even a hint of recklessness, he would express this distaste in words of anger, immediately following with a touch of your ahead.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re all I’ve got.”

And at once, all discomfort melded away.

True, he was always there to protect you.

You always saw hints of the Ripper lurking inside, the demon he struggled so hard to repress. From the excessive rage to those who insulted you, to the horrifying sadism sometimes released on the battlefield, you sensed something was a off.

But, as soon as he returned to your side, with a small smile and a touch from his hand, all anxieties melded away, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. 

Not once did you ever expect him to fall so hard...

 

_Raiden..._

 

_Jack the Ripper..._

 

Due to the loss of your blood, your body falls limp, resting flush against him, cheek pressed into his shoulder.  Again, he chuckles, only thin and light this time.

“Poor dear,” he murmured and runs his fingers through your hair. “All worn out.”

At last, painstakingly, he removes the weapon from your side. After dropping it to the ground with a loud clang, he presses his palm into your side. Strangely the pressure from his hand eases the panic. 

And the throbbing morphs into strange yet...pleasant tingles. An odd warmth embraces you, as if...awakened by this strange form of touch.

Is this what he means...?

Is this what he speaks of...?

Your mind fails to properly piece together the sensations and the occurrences. It seems...utterly insane to feel this way.

But, whatever it is, it feels good.

And you want more. 

You move slightly in his arms, and he perceives the slow sigh escaping your lips.

A dark smile stretches across his lips.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces you to look into his eye, this window revealing a madness so rarely spoken of and so greatly feared.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asks, leaning in closer.

Against all reason, against all logic, you nod. 

He brushes the skin of his upper lip against your own, the metal of his prosthetic cooling your skin. 

“You want more?”

Again, you nod.

Triggering a gasp ripping from your throat, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, sinking them in hard enough to puncture tender skin. Despite the stinging, all you can feel are the bursts of pleasure jolting through you.

With a narrowing of his eyes, and a sinful smile, he mutters, taking your blood along his lip,

“Then, you’re gonna have to _beg_ for it.”


End file.
